Chapter 4 - The Tables Turn
On Wednesday afternoon, Alexandra received a text message from an unknown number. It wasn't from Yevgeny; it was from Galina Artemovna.
“Sasha, let’s be reasonable adults. You overreacted, but we are willing to forgive you if you come back and help us sort out the household. Yevgeny is stressed enough as it is.”
Alexandra stared at the screen, letting out a sharp, cold laugh. Forgive her? Even in defeat, they were still wrapped in their toxic layers of entitlement. She didn't bother replying.
Instead, she met with a divorce lawyer that very afternoon. Armed with her employment records, bank statements proving she had been funding their household single-handedly for months, and proof of Yevgeny’s deliberate unemployment and refusal to contribute, her legal options were rock solid. Irina, her attorney, took one look at the case and smiled like a shark smelling blood in the water.
“We’ll file for immediate legal separation, asset division regarding any shared marital property, and formal abandonment of financial support,” Irina told her smoothly across the mahogany desk. “And as for your husband’s freeloading family, they won't see a single ruble of your income ever again.”
That evening, Yevgeny finally managed to track Alexandra down by showing up outside the office building where she worked.
As Alexandra walked out of the glass sliding doors of her office building at six o'clock, she saw him standing by the pavement, looking disheveled, his jacket unbuttoned, sporting dark circles under his eyes. He looked ten years older than he had a week ago.
“Sasha! Thank God,” he rushed forward, blocking her path. “Please, you have to come back. The apartment is an absolute disaster. Mom hasn't stopped yelling, the electricity is about to be cut off because I couldn't pay the bill, and I... I can't do this without you.”
Alexandra stopped, looking at him with absolute pity and disgust. There was no anger left in her heart—just hollow emptiness where love had once resided.
“You couldn't do what, Yevgeny?” she asked calmly, crossing her arms. “You couldn't survive without a free maid and a personal ATM machine?”
“Be reasonable,” he pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation. “We’re a family! Marriage has ups and downs. You can't just abandon us over a few chores!”
“A few chores?” Alexandra’s voice rose slightly, drawing the curious glances of passersby. “You watched your mother and sister treat me like dirt for four months while you pretended to look for a job. You leeched off my salary, lied about your responsibilities, and expected me to sacrifice my mental health so you could live like a king in your mother’s house. Well, the party is over.”
“What do you mean?” he stammered, his face turning pale.
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“I mean divorce papers are being filed as we speak,” Alexandra said clearly, looking him dead in the eye. “And good luck explaining to your mother why she has to start cleaning her own toilet and paying her own utility bills.”
Before he could open his mouth to scream or beg, a sleek taxi pulled up to the curb. Alexandra opened the door, slipped inside, and watched through the rear window as Yevgeny stood frozen on the sidewalk, a broken man drowning in the very mess he had created.
